“Your throne, madam,” I said with a flourish.
Tiffany laughed and sat on one end, leaving the top for me. We lounged. It wasn’t easy with two people and one chair, not without doing that fake lesbian-show thing that seems to attract guys even better than a free beer sign.
We still attracted plenty of attention. Guys looked, and looked some more, and kept looking. Not one took even a tentative step in our direction, all wary, as if certain the presence of actual twenty-something single women had to be a set-up.
Had they already gotten a taste of the performance-art advertising? As hard as I looked, I didn’t see any other obvious scenes playing out around us. A few people were drinking fake-blood drinks, and a couple in a corner were going at it pretty good - neck nibbling included — but with the awkwardness of outsiders trying really, really hard to fit in.
“We have a contender,” Tiffany whispered in my ear.
She directed my attention across the floor to a guy who was definitely checking me out. He stood with a small group of men hovering, obviously corporate types scoping out the alternate nightlife. My admirer quickly looked away when I glanced over. He shifted, then cast a surreptitious look my way. Hmm.
“Well?” Tiffany asked.
“A distinct possibility.”
He was an average guy. Average height, average build, medium-brown hair. A pleasant face. Not someone who’d catch my eye, but when he caught mine, I took a closer look and saw nothing that quashed the deal.
“OK, he’s playing shy,” Tiffany said. “So I’m going to give him an opening. I’ll go to the bar and take my time getting us drinks.”
I watched Tiffany leave, the crowd parting for her, admiring looks following her ass as it swayed through. And when I turned back to my admirer, he was gone. His group was still there, but he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, hoping he was making his way over to me. No sign of him. Great. Apparently I’d been hanging around Tiffany so long I’d learned her trick for freezing out guys with a single look. I considered going after Tiffany and switching my beer to a double Scotch, neat. Instead I curled up on the chaise loungue and tried not to sulk.
A few minutes later, Tiffany returned, blue eyes wide. “There’s a vampire here!” She plunked down beside me, setting the sofa rocking. “A real vampire!”
“Drinks?”
“He’s bringing them.”
“The vampire?”
She grinned. “Can you believe it? Probably one vampire in this whole place and I snagged him. I wasn’t even looking for one. I was up there at the bar, and this guy brushes against my arm and his skin is cold.” When I didn’t react appropriately, she leaned into my face. “Cold skin? Vampire?”
“Um, air conditioning?” I held out my arm, goosebumps rising on cue.
“He’s a vamp. Trust me. And when you think about it, it makes perfect sense, him being here.”
“It does?”
“Sure. This place looks totally fake, so it’d be the ideal place for real vampires to hang out, undetected.”
“Uh-huh.”
“See him? Up there. Beside the urn.”
I spotted the guy. Not too tall or too dark, but he did have that pretty-boy pout down pat. And while his clothing didn’t scream “I’ve seen Underworld fifty times,” it was suitably dark against his pale skin. “He definitely looks anaemic enough.”
She followed my gaze. “No, not him.” Gripping my chin, she redirected me. “Him.”
I looked. I looked some more. “Holy shit.”
I’m not usually one for gorgeous guys, but one glance at this one
and my ovaries were doing the cha-cha. He was at least six foot two and built. God, was he built. Wide shoulders, muscular biceps, slim hips, perfect ass. With effort, I pulled my gaze back up to his face, which was a sculptor’s dream. And, naturally, he was blond. And tanned. And so not a vampire.
When I said as much to Tiffany, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, he has a tan. So what? You said they can go out in sunlight.”
“But . . . But that’s ...” I ogled some more. “As a man? Perfection. As a vampire? So wrong.”
He still stood at the bar, his gaze fixed regretfully on a no smoking sign. I glanced down at his hand to see him toying with an unlit cigarette. A smoker? Normally a deal breaker, but in this case, I could adjust.